


Fallout: Minnesota

by CherryLaRuckus13



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 1, Fallout 2, Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout 76, Fallout MN, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fallout, Fallout MN - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Minnesota, Multi, Other, The Great Midwest Commonwealth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryLaRuckus13/pseuds/CherryLaRuckus13
Summary: Hey there everyone!I've been working on this project for a while and finally have something to post!Set in 2298, 221 years after the great war, this story follows my heroine Quinn Johnson on her travels through the Wastes of Minnesota in The Great Midwest Commonwealth.Give me feedback in the comments, let me know what you think!The Sleipnir creatures are not my intellectual property, they were created by a lovely person named Anna. You can find their workHere





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
    The early morning sun had begun to sift through the window of the log cabin as Quinn lay awake in bed. Her eyes remained closed. Today was going to be a good, if not mildly treacherous. There was much to be done before she would be ready to head into town; all of her goods were well enough accounted for and her ledger was prepared for a profitable day of trading but her cart still needed packing, her Sleipnir needed a brushing, and her guns required a long overdue cleaning. Yet still Quinn lay in bed. She was aware the second her feet hit the ground she would need to be at her best. The Autumn air would soon chill and there would be more to worry about than just defending her homestead from Raiders and the occasional RadStag eating her crops. Winter in the Chippewa wastes had taken many better than herself in years past, but Quinn wasn't going to give it the satisfaction. She was prepared. Quinn opened her eyes gradually to take in the morning. Her very modest home looked the same as it had the night before. The moth-eaten curtains swayed gently as a draft came though a small crack in the window. It would need repair before winter.  
    Quinn could hear motion outside but not the kind that would call someone to action. The footsteps were unmistakably her father, Oscar. He had likely been up before the sun, as he often was. Mostly he did so to feed the RadHens and start breakfast. She listened as her father paced leisurely through the yard humming a tune to himself. Slowly the smell of firewood drifted in through the walls, calling Quinn to begin her day. She swung her feet over the edge of her bed, quickly dressed in the first simple layer of the day's attire, laced her boots and made her way outside.  
    Oscar crouched near his small but growing fire with a cast iron skillet set carefully on a rack over it, a small basket at his feet. The soft happy clucks of RadHens glided over the farm as Quinn stood back to watch her father. Oscar Johnson was a towering man built sturdy as their home. He was beginning to settle a little in his age, however he carried himself with the stature of a man who could go paw to paw with a Yoi Guai, even when  he wore the pink apron her mother had given him for his birthday years ago. His milky skin had turned rosy and a light brown in some places from a hearty summer's work- with thick callused hands to match. Oscar turned to Quinn just as she took her first steps toward him.  
    "Ah, good, you're awake. Do your old man a favor and hand me the percolator from the bench please. I've already got it ready." He said. This was a ritual they had since Quinn was old enough to boil water. Every Trading Day her father would make breakfast and coffee before they would set out, even on days like this when Quinn was going alone. Quinn nodded and handed Oscar the small tarnished percolator which he then set next to the skillet. "How do you feel about a Cram omelet this morning?"  
    Quinn winced a little. Her father had been trying to sell her on Cram for years. When she was younger she had no choice but to eat what was put on the table in front of her, but now at nearly 30 years old she had a little more say in the matter. Not much say, but some. "I think I'll pass on the Cram this morning dad. More for you and mom." she said with as much of a smile as she could muster.  
    Oscar continued as if he hadn't heard her, "Alright, if that's what you want today." He reached into his basket and began removing a number of grey spotted eggs, cracking them one by one into the skillet. Oscar opened the can of Cram and began tearing chunks of the unnaturally pink mystery meat and setting them in the slowly frying egg mixture. Quinn frowned to herself as she looked on, she would eat it purely because she knew she needed to eat but she certainly wouldn't enjoy it. Oscar groaned as he lifted himself off the ground and poured two cups of coffee. He handed Quinn a steaming chipped mug and gestured to the makeshift chairs adjacent to the campfire where they then sat. The father and daughter sat quietly sipping their coffee and keeping an eye one the eggs. Silence was something Quinn and Oscar enjoyed often with each other. It wasn't long before the eggs were done and plated. Quinn ate her eggs and Cram quickly in hopes of tasting as little of it as possible before getting back to her coffee.  
    Quinn sat back for a moment and surveyed the small farm. The log cabin sat in the center of a thick grove of trees not far from the old highway, and it was tucked far enough back that it discouraged mercs or anyone looking to make quick caps, but the tree cover also housed far more deadly things. They had a  but comfortable home, two bedrooms and a small living area furnished with salvaged and handed down items. The farm had been her father's father's and was passed down to Oscar before his father had passed on. Quinn didn't remember her Grandfather. Oscar had spent the years working on fortifying the farm against the perilous winter cold and the RadStorms and he'd done an excellent job. There was a RadHen coop not far from the front of the house and a barn that had no doubt been a reason for choosing this place to build. The barn was used mostly for crop storage but was also home to Bonny the Sleipnir, Tess the Brahmin, and 2 very fat cats who were supposed to keep the rabbits out of the garden. They were fortunate enough to have their half acre farming plot fenced in even if it didn't always keep things out. It wasn't the most extravagant place to have settled but it served them well.  
    Oscar cleared his throat and fussed with his coffee mug. "Was your mother up and movin' yet?"  
    "She was still asleep as far as I know, you're the one who lets her sleep in. She's spoiled." Quinn joked flatly as she sipped her cooling coffee.  
    "Well goodness knows after all the work you both put in the last week she deserves it." Oscar demurred.  
    "Then why do I have to be up?" Quinn said with a sly smile. She would go back and forth with him all day if he'd let her, sometimes he did. Oscar began to turn pink in the face as he began to think of a witty response that didn't come. Quinn chuckled quietly to herself, "Forget it old man, I get it."  
    "Hey! Who are you callin' old man, little girl?" Oscar reached over to muss his daughter's hair but not before she was able to pull away. He smiled in a way that made his thin smokey quartz eyes crinkle up at the corners, he knew he was getting old but Quinn liked to believe he was thankful for it.  
    "Your beard's looking a little bit more white this morning is all." Quinn joked. His once tawny hair and beard had been flecked with silver for many years now.  
    "That's enough sass for this morning, we've got things to do." He stood and outstretched his hand offering to help Quinn up, he groaned jokingly when she took it.  
  
    Quinn felt that getting her guns in order would be an easy way to start her day and made her way back to her room. On her way she popped her head into her parents room to see if her mother, Lisa, was up yet. She wasn't of course but instead slept soundly under the quilt her own mother had made. She looked peaceful which was a blessing anymore as the trade season was in full swing and winter was following fast. Lisa was a beautiful woman, and Oscar did his best to tell her that whenever possible. Her long black hair had become a little more salt than pepper recently but she didn't seem to mind. Her face was angular; almost cat like. She had high cheek bones, short chin, and large almond shaped eyes which were the deepest shade of brown. Her thick pursed lips turned down at the corners but she still had the most beautiful smile. Her dark copper skin had also began to show its age, but like her father, Quinn thought her mother was happy for it. Quinn agreed with her father; Mother deserved whatever extra sleep she could get. You would be hard pressed to find someone has hard working as Lisa Johnson. Quinn decided to move on once Lisa began to stir.  
    Quinn knelled beside her bed and pulled out a short but long footlocker from under it. She placed a blanket across her bed and began setting out her weapons for cleaning. Typically Quinn didn't carry anything more than a pipe pistol and a machete while doing farm work, but today she would be taking her favorites with her. She took her time dismantling her prized 10mm pistol that she had won off a trader in a hand of Caravan when she was 16 years old. She cleaned each small piece with care before reassembling it and setting it back to the blanket. Next was the combat shotgun Oscar had given her for her 24th birthday. He knew that if his daughter was to make trips into town herself that she would need something bigger to protect herself and the business. This one would always be her favorite. Last was her combat knife. It was faster and much sharper than the machete she carried on her hip and served her well if hidden in her well worn boots. Quinn tossed it around playfully before taking the whet stone to its lightly dulling blade. She carefully holstered the knife before walking back out the door.  
    Oscar had pulled their Buckskin Sleipnir from the barn and was brushing her with such care. Bonny the Sleipnir had come into town with a trader 5 years prior. Most people in the Chippewa called them Odayan from the Ojibwe word for horse; this confused the trader. The trader seemed content on just bringing her to the butcher for an easy sell until Lisa took an interest in her. The man sold them Bonny in exchange for 3 jars of Lisa's mutfruit jam, 5 cases of shotgun shells, and a pound of Quinn's Radstag jerky. She was tall and lean, her 6 legs still very sturdy. Oscar hummed lightly to Bonny as he dressed her to pull the cart. Odayan were renowned for being extremely fast when tested but these days Bonny mostly just tilled the soil and pulled the cart into town, which seemed to suit her just fine. Bonny let out a low and raspy whinny as Oscar clicked his tongue and led her to the cart.  
    "S'yer mother awake yet?" Oscar asked Quinn after catching her in his peripheral vision.  
    "Nosir. Still sleeping like an angel." Quinn replied following her father. He smiled softly through his beard. RadHen's clucked happily as they trailed after Quinn, surely hoping for feed.  
    "Well she should be up soon if she wants to see you off. Best to say goodbye I think." Oscar huffed in his fatherly tone.  
    "It's not my first time into town alone dad." Quinn rolled her eyes a little. He always got like this any time she went to do any trading alone.  
    "Still.." He huffed as he lifted the sides of the cart to meet Bonny. "She should be up." They stood for a moment double checking Bonny's fastening before walking her back to the barn where they had everything for trade crated and ready to go. "I think you can get the cart loaded on your own, little girl."  
    Oscar sat in a weather-worn wing back chair he kept in the barn for when he wanted to be alone, with his feet propped up on a small oil barrel and his giant hands fumbling to pack his pipe. Quinn made sure to count each crate as she loaded them and double checked her ledger to make sure she had everything: 8 sacks  of Razorgrain and corn flour and Wild MutRice each, 10 crates of RadHen eggs, 10 crates of mixed fruits and vegetables, 20 jars of Lisa's mutfruit jam, 20 pounds of various jerkies and preserved meats, 15 bottles of Oscar's moonshine, many small pouches of assorted dried flowers and herbs that Quinn made into tea, bags of tanned leather and furs, and so much more.  
    Oscar chattered away at Quinn as she loaded the cart, telling her stories she'd heard 40 times or more yet she didn't mind as her father was a fantastic story teller. She reacted according to the proper points in the story to let Oscar know that she was still listening, when really she was just thinking about the things she needed to get at the market and how thankful she was that the crates were small. Tess was sleeping in her corner of the barn and the cats cleaned each other in the rafters. It was such a simple thing to enjoy but this was always Quinn's favorite part of trading day.  
    It was nearing the afternoon when Quinn had finally finished and was nearly ready to set out. She and Oscar double checking that everything was tied down tight and the cart was covered properly. Father and daughter walked Bonny and the cart to the front of the cabin to find that Lisa was at last awake. She sat next to the fire with a kettle on the rack, sitting wrapped up in her quilt with her eyes closed. Lisa had decided the season prior that it would be her last season of trading. While she still worked the farm and made things to bring to the market in town, she had had enough of running the books and fighting with people over the cost of her goods. She would go into town occasionally with Quinn, but never to trade. It was a hard choice but it was the right one for everyone. Lisa smiled to herself as she heard them approaching.  
    "How wonderful of you to finally join us my dear." Oscar jeered.  
    "How wonderful of you to finish what you were meant to get done yesterday." Lisa smirked without opening her eyes.  
    "Hey now! Not fair, I was just joshing you." Oscar kissed his wife on the forehead. "Your daughter did a lovely job getting everything packed and ready to take into town."  
    "I had no doubts that she would," Lisa opened one eye to look at Quinn. "She always does. Want your hair braided for the road?"  
    Quinn ran her fingers over the tips of her hair. "I can do it mom, don't worry about it."  
    Lisa closed her eyes again for a moment. "But I already brought everything outside with me for it. But fine, I can just bring it all back in." There was a hint of a grin in her voice as she guilted her daughter. Quinn took her hat off and sighed despite it not bothering her and sat on the ground in front of Lisa. She stared into the fire pit's low burning flames as Lisa's small and nimble fingers worked lightly and seamlessly through Quinn's hair, stopping only to secure the feather into the braid. "Finished. Go have a look."  
    Quinn thanked her mother as she went inside the cabin to the only mirror in the house. The reflection looked almost the same as it had the day before. A thin but muscular woman stared back at her. She looked so much like her mother with the same angular cat like features, long straight dark hair, thick lips and strong nose. Yet she had her father's eyes and his broad shoulders, Quinn's skin wasn't nearly as rich in color as her mothers and he had a dusting of freckles across her face same as Oscar. Her hair was tightly and intricately braided with a large eagle feather hanging from a clip above the braid. Quinn smiled at the braid sadly. Lisa had braided it on the left. She turned her head to look at the sizable laser burn on the right side of her neck and frowned a little, Quinn had many scars but this was the only one that bothered her. A group of raiders had caught Quinn off guard while on a less traveled road and one had landed a decent shot with a poor laser pistol. She considered herself very lucky that it was the only damage sustained but regardless of that Quinn liked to hide it as much as possible. She'd re-braid it when she got close to town.  
    Quinn walked lazily back to her room to grab the last of her things. She picked up the dense canvas bag from the foot of her bed. She had packed it carefully with a change of clothes, the ledger for trade, several medium sized bags of caps, 3 packs of cigarettes, her grandfather's lighter, and a handful of things to eat if she needed to stop on the road. She had tied her bed roll and blanket to the bottom and a single small enamel pot swung from the side. She surveyed the room to make sure there wasn't anything she was missing. She couldn't think of anything else she needed to take with her but upon glancing at her small collection of books sat on top of a handmade dresser on the wall opposite the bed Quinn thought it might be best to bring one with her. She skimmed over the titles, Paradise Lost seemed like a decent choice. She'd been meaning to read it. Quinn slung her pack onto her back, grabbed her guns and she was ready to leave.  
    "What do you think?" Lisa asked as Quinn emerged from the cabin. Quinn walked to the cart to place her personal cargo on the seat before turning back to her parents.  
    "I think it look beautiful as always." Quinn said with her brows raised. Lisa shot Oscar a playful look of pride, to which Oscar rolled his eyes and puffed away on his pipe. "The day is getting late, I really should get moving otherwise Ingrid and Harold won't have a decent room for me." Quinn stood with her thumbs in her pockets.  
    "Of course they will, they know you're comin'." Oscar frowned lightly as her stood to hug his daughter tight. "Love you kiddo. Remember- No gin while your on the road."  
    Quinn squeezed her father back, "When have I ever done that?"  
    "Well.. I'm just sayin' it so's it's said." Oscar smiled.  
    Quinn paused to enjoy the hug. "Love you too dad." She let go and turned to her mother who was already standing. "Love you too mom."  
    Lisa's hug was strong but brief, "Be safe my baby. We'll see you in a few days." Quinn smiled at her mother before hopping into the front of her cart.  
    The giant man gasped suddenly and jogged back to the cabin. "I've got a little somethin' fer ya, hang on. I almost forgot!" Quinn smiled patiently as her father made his way back a little slower. He handed her a cloth sack and a folded piece of paper. "I packed you something for the road. And that's a list of a few extra things we need."  
    Quinn unfolded the paper to glance over it. It was mostly very specific items that Oscar needed to fix the generators and ready the house for winter, however at the very bottom of the list there were 2 things she didn't like seeing: Med-X and Buffout. Quinn frowned at the list and looked to her father who simply nodded at her then stepped back to put his arm around his wife.  
    "I'll be back in a couple of days." Quinn gave the reins a light slap encouraging Bonny onward. Her parents waved as she made her way towards the road. As soon as she turned the corner onto the old and cracked highway Quinn reached into the bag. She felt what had to be a sandwich wrapped in paper, which she would eat once she got closer to town, and a cold glass bottle. She smiled to herself as she pulled out the Nuka-Cola, popped the cap off and took a healthy swig. It was going to be a good ride to town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in 2298, 221 years after the great war, this story follows my heroine Quinn Johnson on her travels through the Wastes of Minnesota in The Great Midwest Commonwealth.  
> Give me feedback in the comments, let me know what you think! 
> 
> The Sleipnir creatures are not my intellectual property, they were created by a lovely person named Anna. You can find their work [Here](http://owligator.tumblr.com/)

    The road was fairly quiet for the bulk of the way into town. The old cracked highway made for a bumpy ride. While most of the Chippewa forest had remained mostly in good condition, there had been some natural destruction; many trees along the highway had fallen from disease and age. The pines that remained had grown almost monstrous in height and several had snapped at the tops, their bows grown far too heavy to withstand the strength of the wind. The remaining Birch and Maple trees had begun to change from their radiant green to beautiful yellows, reds, and oranges. Even though it was certainly lovely to witness the changing of the leaves it served as an ominous reminder of the hard winter soon to come.  
    The highway wound its way around the many bays of the massive lake. The surface of the water remained still and almost appeared as if it were made of glass with the Minnesota sky reflected on it. There wasn't much to be seen on the road outside of the occasional RadStag, squirrels and rabbits. On one particularly occasion Quinn had crossed paths with a Giant Porcupine, on that day she was thankful for Bonny's fast feet even if it took them a few days to get the quills out of their skin. The Chippewa wasteland was not often kind but every so often a person could get lucky.  
    Quinn kept her eyes towards the tree line as she meandered down the highway towards town. She knew the perils that lay just behind the trees and wouldn't be caught off guard if she could help it. Bonny kept moving forward with little to no complaint, only twice stopping to munch on a plant on the side of the road. Quinn kept her hand on her 10mm and both eyes wide open while her companion grazed. This trip seemed so relatively easy compared to others. All the same, Quinn felt it best to press on. It was nearing dark and the road would only grow more dangerous.  
    The lights from town were visible as they rounded the corner down the hill. The sign on the side of the road was weathered and chipped, it had been painted over many times.  
    "Welcome to Leech, city on the bay." Quinn said to herself as she passed the lit sign, a ritual she had ever since her folks would take her into town for trading day. It gave her a little bit of comfort and brought a small smile to her face.  
    The town of Leech had been much larger before the war, not that it was very big to begin with but the town had since build defenses. Some areas had high solid walls whereas others had chain-link and barbwire. Two men in heavy leather armor stood at guard posts on the road with hunting rifles and small turrets buzzed and rotated as she passed through. Quinn tipped her hat to the guards, she was sure she knew the men but it was hard to see with bandanas covering their faces. One of the men gave a hearty wave. Quinn smiled.  
  
    Quinn passed through town mostly unnoticed by the townsfolk. Leech would be bustling the next few days as it was the last big trading days of the season. There had been many caravans through in the last few hours, people would have time to catch up later. Quinn made her way to The Leech Lake Motel, which sat on the edge of town right on the lake. It had once been a large and luxury vacation spot for people in The Midwest Commonwealth, but these days it mostly served as housing for traders and wanderers alike. There were a handful of people that took up residence year round in the motel but that number seemed to dwindle with every passing year. There was a stable that had been built out front of the motel where a trader could safely house their pack animals and carts. Quinn stopped there first, made sure Bonny was secured. There was a new young man working the stable she'd never seen before, he was maybe 17 and clearly very green around the ears. As Quinn gathered her bag and her guns she couldn't help but hope that the boy would last to see the next season.  
    The lobby of the motel looked the same as it had 2 months prior. The old leather and velvet furniture was still stained and worn, the ceiling still had a slight leak, and most everything smelled like stale tobacco and mildew. An old man sat behind the counter with a crudely printed paper in front of his face. His white hair forming a horse shoe around his head, and thick mustache hanging over his lip. His small eyes squinted as he struggled to read. This would be Harold Olson.  
    "Bout damn time you showed up kid, we were starting to think that you wouldn't be comin'." Harold said without looking up from his paper.  
    "Well I made it." Quinn said fussing through her pack for a bag of caps. "Same price as always Harold?"  
    "Mhmm. Ingrid's got your room all ready for you. End of the hall, last one-"  
    "On the right, got it." Quinn said leaning on the counter. Harold let out a mildly irritated sigh. He looked up at Quinn and slid her key across the counter. "Any new traders this time?" Quinn asked picking up her key.  
    Harold crossed his brows as he spoke. "A few, a few. Couple of new kids came all the way over from Superior. They were a little worse for wear when they showed up but they made it."  
    "I'm sure they did, that's one helluva trek." Quinn said trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. "Anything else happening in town?"  
    "Well I'm sure you heard about the Pederson boy." Harold said going back to his paper.  
    "Which one, Nathan or Mitchell?"  
    "Nathan." Harold said licking his thumb and turning the page. Quinn shook her head no. Harold sighed, "The boy went out by himself a few days back, a couple of Lurks turned his boat over not far off the island.. Shame, he was a nice boy."  
    Quinn stood quiet for a moment before tapping her fingertips on the counter top and saying thank you and goodnight to Harold. People were like that here, everyone felt the weight of loss but most people had become so used to death. Quinn liked to think that Harold had been a little more kind with poor Donna when she came to the docks to look for her son, but it wasn't very likely.  
  
    Quinn's room looked the same as it always had. There was a queen sized bed with a loveseat in the corner by the window, a television that hadn't worked for over 200 years, and a small table. Quinn threw her pack onto the bed and plopped down next to it. She sat and enjoyed the peaceful silence for a moment, closed eyed and steady breathing. She'd made it.  
    She had made the trip more times than she could count, however it was very different just coming into town to escape versus carrying all the cargo. It was less pressure when it was only her on Bonny. She sat for a while longer before taking a deep breath, opening her eyes and digging through her pack to find another small bag of caps. She had scrimped from her last trip in to town to save some drinking money, and by Atom she was going to drink every last cap.  
    The bar in the basement of the motel was loud and smokey, dimly lit  by a few makeshift chandeliers and homemade candles. Quinn squinted over the bar to find a seat, preferably alone, however the bar was crowded and only a handful of solitary chairs remained. A ripped leather chair in the back corner of the bar called to her. She strode through the bar observing the faces, some she knew and many were new to her. The radio on the corner of the bar was cutting in and out. Quinn looked over just in time to see a tiny weathered hand strike the radio several times. The hand belonged to Beverly Starzyk, the bartender and local sweetheart. She was short, grey, and louder than half the bar with a thundering laugh that could split ice in winter. Most people called her Bev.  
    "Piece of shit radio!" Bev croaked as she hit the radio one last time for good measure. Looking up she spotted Quinn and a toothy yellow grin split her face. "Quinn! Good to see ya, honey. How's the folks?"  
    "They're good, getting crabbier everyday." Quinn said stopping.  
    "Your father doesn't want to come in and see me anymore?" Bev picked up a bottle of beer from the bar and placed it in a bin under the bar.  
    "I think mom was getting a little worried about the discount you were giving him." Quinn joked.  
    "She should be worried with these eyes like these." Bev batted her hazy eyes at Quinn before she tilted her head back and let out a barking laugh. "I'm just kidding ya honey, have a seat and I'll bring you something." Quinn nodded and made her way to her chair.  
    The chair groan under Quinn's weight as she sunk into it. The stuffing around the tears had turned brown from years of use and smelled like whiskey and sweat. Quinn's gaze drifted over the room, taking in the chaos. A woman with an eye patch sitting at the bar was watching Quinn with a smirk creeping up her cheeks. Quinn considered getting up but before she could Bev stepped in front of the table and aggressively set the drink on the table then plopped into the chair next to Quinn.  
    "Busy tonight?" Quinn asked reaching into her bag for 5 caps.  
     Bev scoffed and waved her hand at Quinn. "Honey you know the first drink's free for traders."  
    "It's a tip then." Quinn held her hand out. Bev eyed her from the side. "Take it, you know half these traders aren't going to tip you till the third day." Bev let out a sigh and put her hand out hand reluctantly. Quinn squeezed Bev's hand lightly with the caps in it.  
    "You're too good to me kid." Bev pulled a crumpled pack of cigarette's out of her apron and handed one to Quinn before popping one between her lips. Quinn lit her cigarette then Bev's. "I don't know about you but I'm about ready for the season to be over. I've had enough of these kid from out of town coming in to trade and treating the place like their own personal playpen."  
    "You say that every year Bev." Quinn said lifting her drink to her lips. Whiskey and Nuka always burned the back of her throat at first but it was just what she wanted.  
    "I'm serious! Especially after this afternoon. I'm going to have to get Paul in here to fix the new hole in the ceiling, and good luck pinning him down before the lake freezes over." Bev rolled her eyes and took a drag on her cigarette.  
    Quinn squinted at Bev, "New hole? What happened?"  
    "Some punks came in here earlier today looking to trade with Max for a batch of his new shine, they didn't care for his prices. Max put his damn nose in the air when they tried to haggle with him about it so they shot a hole in my ceiling! Said they'd be back." Bev huffed. Quinn grimaced. That wasn't good, raiders usually didn't come into town for trade days, too many people and too many guns.  
    "Well, I doubt they'll come back until after trading is done. I'm sure Greg and Arthur wouldn't mind sticking around an extra day or so if you could get Harold to give them a deal on the room." Quinn took a heavy gulp of her drink.  
    "If you could convince him I'd be grateful. Maybe I could convince Maxwell to give you a deal on his new stock." Bev wiggled her eyebrows at Quinn.  
    "I'll talk to them for you, sure." Quinn assured Bev.  
    "Thanks kid." Bev heaved herself out of the rickety chair, "Back at it!" With that she made her way around the room, cackling as patrons cracked jokes while she took their orders. Bev was good people, though Quinn wasn't all that surprised that Bev's son, Maxwell, gave the trouble makers a hard time. Maxwell ran the stills that kept the bar stocked and was a little too full of himself about it. His spirits were high quality but not so high that it wasn't worth that kind of trouble.  
    Within the hour several of the recognized faces had spotted Quinn as well. She had slowly began melting into her chair in the corner of the bar as townsfolk and traders alike began bringing her drinks.  She was able to keep mostly quiet and attend to her drinks as people updated her on what was new in their lives. Most people were only concerned with what was happening with themselves, which Quinn didn't mind. All that meant was Quinn didn't have to talk about herself much.  
    Greg and Arthur made an appearance at Quinn's table. Greg was the local arms trader, he could hold a weapon and tell you what needed fixing, it didn't matter whether it was energy weapons or classic gunpowder. Greg was a short lean man with sandy blond hair and a bombastic personality, he talked quickly and almost nonstop. Greg's husband Arthur was almost the opposite. Arthur was tall and soft with dark tight curls, he spoke gently and was much more reserved that his counterpart. Arthur was an armorer, he could stitch a leather chest piece together in no time flat and his metal armor was always quality. Arthur found little niche things to make his armor highly functional as well as comfortable. They sat and chatted away as Quinn bought them a few rounds, hoping it would butter them up when she asked them to help with Bev's problem. They of course agreed- pending Harold giving them a discount on the room.  
    The night raged on around Quinn as she sat in the corner watching people phase in and out of view. Cassie Nguyen the local junk trader sat at the bar trying very hard to ignore the playful come on's of the resident scavenger, Sam Bernard. Cassie's ears turning bright red as Sam twirled his mustache at her. Sam loved flirting with people and was something of a Casanova, but he especially loved flirting with Cassie. It was mostly to get her goat but sometimes it was hard to tell. Cassie Nguyen simply kept her eyes forward and responded in a soft yet clipped manner. She could sell water to a Mirelurk and wasn't so easily took by Sam's suave lines.  
    Just down the bar from Cassie and Sam sat two men starring longingly into their drinks, saying nothing to each other. George, the town drunk, and Jim Pederson who owned a farm not far from town. No one knows where George had come from, he just wandered into town one day and took up residency in the hotel, he was usually a stumbling mess but he always paid his tab- though no one was quite sure how. George wasn't a surprising sight, however Jim was. Jim had never been much of a drinker but with the resent loss of his eldest son she couldn't blame him. Jim was a man in very similar stature to her own father but significantly greyer in the face. His face was sun-weathered and scarred from years of working the farm. He spoke loud and mean to most anyone, with the exception of his wife Donna and their daughters, Sarah and Charlie. Quinn made a mental note to give them a few extra pounds of jerky for their loss.    
    It didn't take long for George to begin to make his way out of the bar, tripping and spilling the last of his beer on Cookie, who helped George to his feet with a kiss on the cheek before going back to talking to a trader. Blond, breathy, and beautiful Cookie; she made a killing this time of year. Though it wasn't a surprise when people could spend upwards of a week on the road to get to town and the company of a soft warm woman was an easy way to celebrate. The lucky few who paid in jet were usually gifted seemingly other-worldly wisdom in addition to decent tail. She would likely add the kiss to George's tab.  
      
    Quinn gave cap after cap to Bev who kept the drinks strong and steady as Quinn watched the townsfolk and trader's alike start to fall prey to the effects of liquor. Most people were laughing, some had their arms wrapped around a friendly shoulder and singing ancient songs from the radio. The fights were brief and often solved with another round. It was nearing time for Quinn to take her leave when a hand holding a cigarette settled on the table. Quinn looked up to see a woman with short dirty blonde hair and a honey brown eye, the other hidden by an eye patch.  
    "Got a light?" asked the woman. Quinn struck her lighter and lit the cigarette. "Mind if I sit?"  
    "Not at all." Quinn motioned sloppily to the seat next to her. The woman sat next to Quinn and gave a coy smile. "Can't say I've seen you her' before, whas yer name?" Quinn did her best not to slur as she asked and blinked excessively.  
    "It's Aidan, what's yours?" Aidan stuck her hand out to shake.  
    "Quinn Johnson." Quinn took the hand and gently shook it then lit a cigarette of her own. "What crew 'er you runnin' with? I haven't seen ya this season."  
    "We let out last week from Superior, it was a tough road but we made it. Thinking we might stay a few extra days just to make the trip worth it." Aidan sighed.  
    "Glad you could make it all this way, I'll be excited to see what yer sellin'." Quinn smiled.  
    "We've got a little bit of everything, but I didn't come over here to talk trade with you, Quinn." Aidan took a drag on her cigarette. "I've been watching you all night and you seem like someone I would like a private drink with."  
    Quinn nearly chocked on her smoke but manged to blow a small cloud before she spoke, "I think Cookie should be back shortly if you're looking for a quick fix."  
    "Blonds aren't really my type but neither are women who like my brothers." Aidan said placing her hand on Quinn's knee. Quinn glanced quickly man who's lap Cookie was currently occupying, he and the man standing next to him bore a striking resemblance to Aidan.  
    "I can see that bein' a bit of a d'terant, yeah." Quinn mused looking back to Aidan who took a drag from her cigarette.  
     "What do you say we get a fresh drink and head back to your room?" Aidan blew a cloud of smoke as her grip tightened.    
    Quinn thought about it for a moment before she spoke. "Do you like Nuka Whiskeys?"   
Aidan smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone!  
> Thank you to everyone who has given me such great feedback! I really appreciate the patience- despite some setbacks I've been able to spend some time working on this project and plan to continue doing so!


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